Chapter Three
Flynn knelt beside her. Over the past couple of weeks, Lara had often fantasised about having him in this position but she now wished he didn’t exist.
‘No! Please don’t touch it!’ She peered at the chalice, too scared to handle it herself.
‘Bloody hell … it looks OK, though. It doesn’t seem damaged,’ Flynn said.
Lara met his eyes, which were full of remorse. ‘We’d better hope not.’
‘Maybe it’s OK? These boards aren’t like tiles or stone.’
‘Maybe,’ she murmured, finally lifting the chalice as gently as she could and standing up. She placed it on the table carefully, worried it might slip from her unsteady hands again.
‘Can I do anything?’ he asked, on his feet again but keeping his distance.
‘Please don’t touch it!’ Lara said.
Wisely, he stayed silent as Lara peered closer at the glass, inspecting the rim, the bowl, the stem. It looked intact. She let out a breath.
Impossibly, there seemed to be no cracks. It was intact, which was a miracle after that fall. Somebody must be looking out for her.
She squinted at the chalice and her heart seemed to stop. No. It couldn’t be.
‘I think we got away with it,’ Flynn said, with a sigh of relief. ‘Phew.’
Lara stared at the glass, feeling sick. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘What?’
‘Look at the base. I think it’s – I think it’s chipped.’
He walked over to the table. ‘Where? I can’t see anything.’
‘Look closer. It’s only tiny but it’s there.’ She pointed to the edge of the base.
Flynn leaned over the chalice, his dark head of hair obscuring the chalice for a few moments before he turned back to her, his lips pressed together in a grimace.
‘Yeah. I hate to say it, but I think you’re right. It is only minuscule, and if you weren’t looking for it, you probably wouldn’t notice, but I’m afraid there is a tiny nick. I am so sorry.’
Lara sat down on a chair next to the table, her head in her hands. For six centuries, the Lucky Chalice of Ravendale had remained pristine and intact. Now, she’d done what sieges, battles, fire and flood could not achieve: ruined the most precious item that the Penhaligon family owned.
She glanced up. ‘I could lose my job. I’ll have to resign.’
‘Whoa. Hold on. It can’t be that bad, can it?’ Flynn said gently.
Although on the verge of tears, Lara held them back. ‘It is. I’ve destroyed a priceless object, the one thing that matters more to the family than everything else in the castle. I must tell Fiona and Henry – but how can I?’ A groan of frustration slipped out.
Flynn’s hand was on her arm, his voice soothing. ‘Hold on a minute. Take a breath. Let’s think about this before we do anything rash.’
‘It’s too late for that. We, I – have done something rash. There’s no way I can hide this from Henry and Fiona. I’ll have to offer my resignation.’ The enormity of the situation rolled over her like a truck. ‘Just when I’d found a job I love and a place I want to stay.’
‘Lara. Lara. I know this is upsetting—’
‘Upsetting? It’s a disaster.’
‘Now wait,’ Flynn said calmly, but with an edge of firmness. ‘It’s not a disaster. A fire burning the place down would be a disaster. Something awful happening to a guest or a member of staff or to you would be a disaster …’
She stared at him.
‘What I’m trying to say,’ he went on, ‘is that this is unfortunate and not good, but it’s not life or death, is it?’
‘It might be,’ Lara said, ‘if you believe the myth around the chalice.’
He arched his eyebrows. ‘And do you?’
‘No, of course not!’ She laughed bitterly, partly through embarrassment as she realised how dramatic she’d sounded.
It wasn’t like her to panic. She was cool, calm and competent.
Normally. However, the combination of dropping the glass, the prospect of losing her job, and Flynn having a hand in it, had thrown all her normal rules of behaviour out the window.
‘No, I don’t believe the castle will fall and the family will have to leave Ravendale, but the fact remains.
I’ve damaged a priceless piece of art and I have to do something about it. ’
‘If you’re dead set on telling Henry and Fiona, then why not let me take the blame?’
She followed his gaze to the chipped chalice, which stood there, accusingly.
Lara was acutely aware that he’d somehow taken charge of the situation and she needed to get a grip.
‘Thanks for the offer, but you can’t take the blame for the damage.
For a start, I wouldn’t let you. Besides, you haven’t even started your job here.
How can you go to the Penhaligons and tell them your first act has been to wreck the family’s most precious heirloom? ’
‘Yet it’s OK for you to do it?’ Flynn asked. ‘It was both our faults, but mainly mine, let’s be honest.’
‘I – I suppose they might not sack me,’ Lara said. ‘Even so, I’ll feel my professional credibility has been shattered – not to mention their trust in me. I love working here. It’s my dream job.’
‘I already knew how much this place means to you,’ he said.
That conversation had been almost three weeks ago, and since then she’d had to accept he’d been merely a guest passing through, like thousands of other visitors. She’d begun to think she might have imagined the briefest of kisses as he left and went off on his motorbike back to Cornwall.
Her shiver of desire ended when she caught sight of the chipped chalice again.
‘I admire your honesty, Lara,’ Flynn said gently, ‘but there is another solution, if you don’t want me to take the blame or you to risk your job.’
‘What?’ she asked, torn between despair and hope.
‘Don’t jump down my throat before you’ve heard it, but can you get the chalice repaired – without anyone knowing, I mean?’
‘I – well I suppose it could be – maybe.’
‘You must know someone, with all your experience and contacts,’ Flynn said. ‘And won’t it have to be restored anyway if you tell the Penhaligons? They’ll need to claim on the insurance, surely?’
Either despite or because of her comment about the rarity of experts in the field, one name did immediately spring to mind. A name that caused a tiny spark of hope to flicker into life.
‘Actually … I do know someone who might be able to help. A friend from uni. I’ve worked with her a few times before, but I’d still have to tell Henry and Fiona.’
Flynn raised his eyebrows. ‘Would you really? I mean, do they look closely at the chalice that often?’
‘No. Only me and occasionally the tour guides usually handle it. It was out for a special display today.’
‘Do you think your restorer friend could be trusted?’
‘To lie, you mean?’ Lara asked, feeling nauseous at the prospect of such a charade.
‘I mean to cover for you and keep a secret.’
‘I suppose so … she probably would. I’ve put a lot of work her way and we’ve known each other a long time.’
‘Then ask her.’
‘I could, but it would be so wrong. I’d feel so bad about it. Lying and …’
‘And what?’ Flynn asked.
‘And – nothing. I need to think about it.’
‘I wouldn’t take too long if I were you. Seize your chance,’ he said.
He was right. Annoyingly right. Lara stared at the chalice. Even though the nick was tiny, it seemed to leap out at her like a giant crevasse – a gaping gorge of her stupidity and guilt. Why had she reacted so dramatically to Flynn’s voice and appearance in the first place?
Flynn squeezed her shoulder briefly. ‘Speak to your conservator friend and let me know how much the repair bill will be. We’ll go halves.’
‘Thanks. I do appreciate it,’ Lara said, touched by his offer yet determined to take her destiny into her own hands. ‘However, it was me that dropped it and I’ll take the consequences.’